


Of Short Girls and High Shelves

by killjoy_assbutt



Series: killjoy_assbutt's oneshots [7]
Category: Henry Cavill - Fandom, Sand Castle (2017)
Genre: F/M, captain syverson smut, captain syverson x reader smut, sy smut, sy x reader smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoy_assbutt/pseuds/killjoy_assbutt
Summary: Summary: Your husband loves how small you are. Sometimes he shows you in the worst way possible, but makes up for it in the best way. That being said, he likes to put your favorite coffee mug on a shelf just out of your reach and then watches you struggle.Pairing: Captain Syverson x 1st person readerWarning: SMUT; domestic relationship; size!kink; fingering; badly written and pretty short handjob; oral (fem receiving)(Captain Cunnilingus strikes again); multiple orgasms; dom/sub; MaleDom/femSub; slight possessive behavior; filthy language; begging; breeding(!kink); what? fluff during filth? It’s more likely than you think; I tried to be funny…, Dog!Daddy SyIf you are uncomfortable with any of this, do not read!Like and comment if you liked it ❤️ Enjoy ❤️
Relationships: Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)/Reader, Captain Syverson/You
Series: killjoy_assbutt's oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051982
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Of Short Girls and High Shelves

The bright morning sun peeks rudely through the gaps in the heavy curtains, shining right into my face. I groan, still mostly asleep and turn to the other side, away from the stress and duties that come with the morning, and towards the warmth of my big bear of a husband. It’s just that when I turn, instead of snuggling up to his wide chest, I fall face down onto his pillow; not a trace of the Captain to be found.

“Ah, fuck,” I grumble, finally opening my eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden light. A gentle breeze coming from the open window makes me shiver and I quickly grab the first piece of clothing I can find – a worn, dark grey AC/DC tee, property of the bear. Throwing it over my head, I inhale deeply, taking in my husband’s musk.

Yawning, I stand, reluctantly leaving the warm comfort of my bed behind. Coffee, I need coffee. 

God, last night had been late; Sy had to work overtime, and like a good wife, I waited for him. We had planned to spend the weekend just by ourselves, the kids staying with their granny, but at some point, I just fell asleep on the couch while waiting for my husband to come home. And when I woke up, I was in bed, stripped from the uncomfortable lace bra and heels – alone.

As I groggily walk through the corridor, eyes still droopy with sleep, I let my fingers trail along the wall, stopping to push the doors to the kids’ rooms open. The beds are made and empty – no late-night pick-up trip then. Downstairs, I find the dog-bed vacant, just as the hook above it that would usually house the German Shepherd’s leash and collar. Seems like they’re on their morning run.

Nodding to myself, I make my way into the kitchen and get the coffee machine going. Stifling another yawn, I open the cupboard and am just about to reach inside to grab my favorite mug, which I’d need since it’s the biggest and I’m tired as hell – I need that big fucking cup of coffee if I want to function today – but halt my movement mid-air when I find its usual spot empty. Confused, I search the other cupboards, even the dishwasher, but can’t find it anywhere. Turning back to the original cabinet, I find my mug… one shelf further up.

“Ah, shit,” I grumble, getting up on my tiptoes, stretching in an attempt to reach my mug. My tired brain is so focused on the task that I don’t even hear the front door opening and two pairs of paws and one pair of feet entering. Neither do I notice the hulking figure that leans in the doorway shortly after, watching me struggle with his arms crossed over his chest, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

I sway from one foot to another, standing only on my tippy toes, fingers brushing the mug’s handle, but I can’t reach it enough to grasp it. My shirt rides up, but I couldn’t care less – for all I know nobody can see me right now. Or so I think.

This goes on for minutes. Frustrated huffs and mutters of ‘asshole’ leave my lips, unaware of the culprit right behind my back, his eyes focused on my lace-clad butt peeking out from under his shirt. I know, I could simply take another mug and be done with it, but it’s my favorite and the biggest, and I’m stubborn.

“Need help there, bug?”

The sudden deep voice of my husband right next to my ear makes me jump.

“Son of a-” I yelp when I stagger backwards, colliding with his hard chest. I hadn’t noticed him come home, let alone enter the kitchen. Given his size and build, the small part of my mind that is not shocked is amazed that he managed to sneak up on me; but then again, that was part of his training as a Special Forces Captain. One of his arms wraps itself around my waist, stabilizing me, while he reaches his other up to grab my mug effortlessly.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I hiss, snatching my mug from his hand and clutching it to my chest protectively.

He just grins down at me and shrugs.

“Ya just so cute when ya struggle to reach that shelf, darlin’.”

“Oh no. No.” I poke his chest with my free hand. “Don’t ‘darlin’’ me, mister! You know damn well that I use that mug every morning, and that I need a cup this size to function even remotely. I’m so not in the mood for that right now!”

Large hands land on my hips, squeezing lightly, making my eyes snap to his face. That damn arrogant grin is still painting his bearded cheeks and plush lips, and fuck, he knows it’s my weak spot. That stupid, irresistible smile always brightens my mood and he has learned to use that to his advantage. As much as I want to be mad at him for hiding that mug just out of my reach, one look at that smile and my anger crumbles to dust.

“I hate you,” I grumble, the hand that’s been poking at his chest now lying flat on his left pec, the fabric damp from sweat under my touch, but I don’t care.

“No ya don’t,” the big bear drawls in his heavy Texan accent, still not losing that grin.

“No, I don’t,” I sigh, “But don’t do that again!”

“Can’t promise that, bug,” he smirks, the hands that have been on my hips slowly wander lower and further back, “Your sweet little ass just looks too damn good in my shirt. ” To empathise his words, he grasps my butt and squeezes the supple flesh in his large hands.

“Mmm, it does now?” I smirk.

“Ya know damn well it does, bug.”

I grin, a mischievous plan forming in my head, something that’d wake me up more than the coffee ever could. It’s what we planned for the weekend after all…

“Oh yeah?” I purr, wrapping my arms around his neck, the mug still dangling in my hand, “You like it when I wear your clothes? When I show who I belong to?” Pressing myself against him, I can feel his semi-hard bulge poking into my lower belly through his sweatpants. He lets out a quiet hiss at the sudden contact, a dark hue veiling the steel blue of his eyes. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then. And all just from staring. Oh my.”

I keep rubbing myself against him for a while, swaying my hips as much as he’d let me with his hands still on my butt. For now he lets me assume control, because once he takes it, he isn’t letting it go - ever the Captain.

And sure enough, it doesn’t take long for him to snap. It took just a few seconds, if I’m completely honest. With his hands just below my ass, he lifts me to sit on the countertop. All I can do is gasp as he pushes my knees apart and steps between them, coming so very close to my startled face, our noses almost touching. He reaches behind his neck to pry the mug from my hand, setting it down on the marble counter with just a little too much force, the loud clang making me jump slightly. He’s done with my teasing, I can tell, and I shiver from the dominance and authority he’s exuding now, as well as from the cold stone against my heated flesh.

“Not from starin’,” he growls, nipping at my earlobe, “But from plannin’ what I’ll do ta ya…”

His coarse beard tickles my skin as he works it against my neck, his hot mouth biting and sucking like a depraved vampire. He leaves my skin red and irritated as I squirm in his grip from all the sensations mingling. I shiver and moan at his words and the feeling of his heat radiating off him, dominance clear in his actions, but I’m not quite ready to give up my control just yet. My hands move to rub him through his sweatpants, before pushing the waistband down, just enough for his cock to spring free.

He’s hot and heavy in my hands, velvet skin wrapped around iron, pulsing and twitching with the promise of being squeezed by my silken walls again. He growls again as I pump him, my thumb flicking over his tip from time to time, coating him with his precum. He slides one hand to my clothed heat, rubbing me through my panties. A desperate whimper escapes me at the sudden pressure against my folds, and I buck my hips, craving more.

He pulls the fabric to the side, sliding one thick finger through my petals.

“So wet for me,” he groans, shoving his finger deep inside me, making me gasp and grind my hips against his digit. He’s scissoring me open, battle-worn fingers stroking all the spots that he knows will make me putty in his hands. It doesn’t take long for me to completely succumb to his ministrations, becoming nothing but a puppet for him to control.

I keep pumping him, my small hands barely covering even half of him, but his grunts tell me that he’s getting at least something out of it. With the calloused pads of his fingers dancing over my g-spot, he brings me right to the edge, making my moan loudly and absolutely carelessly. My legs are trembling, heels digging into his lower back.

And then, just when I’m about to tumble off the cliff, he pulls his fingers out, wipes his hand on the hem of my – well, his – shirt, and bats my hands from around his cock.

“Ya needa be quiet there, bug,” he grunts, but I shake my head.

“The kids are at your mom’s,” I pant, “Now, please, oh fuck. I need you!”

“Not yet, bug,” he grins, lowering himself to his knees, his face level with my dripping folds, “Wanna have breakfast first.”

“Wha- no. Please, baby, just fuck me. Plea- ooh.” My complaining is cut off by a long moan when he drags his broad tongue through my folds. Propping myself up on the counter with my hands behind my back, my head dropping as my eyes land on the large man between my thighs, his face buried in my cunt. An impressive sight; and just for me to see.

“Mmm, ya taste so fuckin’ amazin’, bug,” he mutters into my core, the vibrations of his low voice makes me buck my hips, craving more. And more he gives. He dives his tongue deep into my petals, slurping at the honey that’s flowing just for him. He pulls me closer with his hands still on my hips and I squirm against his mouth, bucking my hips as much as I can, his beard scratching at the tender skin of my inner thighs. Grunting and growling like a beast, he devours me like a starving man.

“Fuck, baby, please, ohh,” I gasp out between high-pitched moans, already close to the edge.

“Please what, darlin’?” the bear drawls against my lips, a glint in his darkened eyes, driving me mad.

“Oh, fuck, please fuck me! Fuck, baby, please!”

“Mhh, not yet, bug,” he mutters before latching his lips around my hidden pearl, sucking gently, his tongue drawing lazy patterns, while he inserts his finger back into my tight slit, finding my g-spot immediately, rubbing it slowly.

I’m clenching around his digit, hips bucking up in an attempt to ride his smug face, but he’s holding me still with one large hand on my hip. Whining, I stare down at him, wordlessly pleading him to stop his teasing.

The tight coil in my gut is begging to explode, missing just that little push that’d send me spiraling. It’s so tight it hurts, setting my whole body on fire and chilling it at the same time. If he keeps that up I swear I’m gonna pass out.

And it gets even worse when he slips another finger in. 

“Baby, please,” I rasp breathlessly, “Please, I need to cum. Please, Captain. Let me cum.”

His rank tumbling from my lips makes something snap in him. Giving me a growl that, paired with his burning stare, makes shivers run up and down my spine, he speeds up his fingers within me, fucking me rough and fast with his digits, the suction on my little bundle of nerves increases as he puts more pressure into the patterns he’s tracing with his tongue.

“Fuck, yes!” I cry out, hips bucking wildly as much as I can with his tight grip holding me, preventing me to fall off the countertop.

“Cum for me, bug,” Sy growls against my folds, “Cum all over my face for me, darlin’.”

His words are all it takes. They never fail to deliver the final push; that rough voice whispering the most filthy things and I’m done for.

“Shit baby! I-I’m… ah!” I scream, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut, as the coil explodes, sending me flying over the edge of white-hot euphoria. Twitching and trembling, I sit on top of the counter, held up only by Sy’s hand against the small of my back; my arms propped behind me are boneless as I breathe heavily.

The big bear lazily licks me through my high, drinking up my nectar. When I come back down to earth and lower my head to gaze at my husband with glossy, blissed out eyes, I find him peering up at me with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile hinted on his cheeks that made my heart soar.

“Come up here, love,” I mumble, my voice hoarse from screaming. Slowly, the Captain complies, his lips leaving my tender clit, his fingers slipping from my fluttering core. I whine at the loss of his warmth, but also from relief, my little core sensitive from the assault of his rough fingers. Part of me dreads what’s about to come, but it’s been too long that we had time to ourselves - I need him.

Standing in front of me, Sy gently pushes my knees together and lets his fingers glide up along my thighs. I shiver at his touch, staring at my large man, his beard glistening with my juices.

“Don’t hide my mug again,” I whisper, reaching my hands up to cup his now wet, coarse jaw.

“Can’t do that, bug,” he mutters back with a teasing glint in his eyes as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of my panties.

“Then you’ll have to stay ‘til breakfast every day,” I shrug, shifting a bit when he starts pulling the flimsy black lace down my thighs, “Could help me getting the little ones ready.”

“Bug,” he sighs, his fingers lingering on my knees, “Ya know I can’t. Trainin’ starts-”

“At 7, I know,” I finish for him in a mumble, sliding my hands from his face to the back of his neck, “C’mere.”

I don’t have to tell him twice. Once my panties hit the floor, he pushes my legs apart, stepping between them, large hands finding my butt while his lips claim mine. I can taste my juices on his tongue when he slides it against mine, making me moan into his mouth. My fingers dig into his scalp to pull him even closer. 

I gasp when Sy’s hands start wandering upwards under my shirt, squeezing my hips, and higher. The calloused pads of his thick fingers drag over my tender skin, making me shiver at the stark contrast between us.

The Captain is all hard, huge and heavy, steel and stone, roughed up from the things he’s seen and done, while I’m a small, delicate, soft thing, oblivious to the horrors behind his eyelids every night, besides the screams of agony that echo in our bedroom. I often ask him, hoping to ease his mind, to take the heavy weight off his shoulders, but he won’t tell me, keeping his terrors from me, afraid they might crush me if I knew.

His thumbs swiping over my nipples make me snap back to the present, making me moan at his touch. My senses are overflowing with him; his touch, the spice of his sweat in my nose, his tongue sliding against mine, his taste… it is all too much. Panting and with a clouded brain, I break away from him, steadying myself with my hands on his wide shoulders.

“Ya alright, bug?” the bear drawls, watching the rapid rise and fall of my heaving chest with slight concern mingling with the desire in his eyes.

“Yeah, babe,” I pant, “It’s just… When was the last time we really had time for this?”

“Been a while,” he growls, “Fuck, I bet you’re tight like a virgin again, bug.”

I whimper at the thought of him splitting me open, but a wave of burning arousal washes over my entire body and my fingers start clawing at the back of Sy’s sweaty tee, bunching up the fabric in my fists until he takes a step back, out of my reach, to discard of the needless piece of clothing.

A god of war is revealed to me when his clothes hit the floor; hard chest and abdomen dusted with dark curls, tan skin riddled with scars of every size and shape, telling stories of death and survival he’d never dare to say out loud. Wordlessly, I reach my arms out towards him, and he steps between them without question.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” I whisper, running my hands from his cheeks down his neck to his pecs and back up to rest on his shoulders.

“I love you more,” Sy mutters back, his face mere inches from mine as his hands land back on my hips, inching up slowly, gathering the dark grey fabric on his forearms until he reaches my arms. The calluses of his fingertips against my soft skin elicits a quiet moan from my lips, my eyelids fluttering shut. Carefully, Sy lifts his shirt off my body, letting it drop to the floor when he claims my lips once again, softly, yet demanding. I sling my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper, feeling his member nudge against my inner thigh.

Blindly, he grabs it himself, lining himself up with my entrance, our lips never parting. I feel his tip ghosting at my entrance, thick and twitching with need, sending sparks of electricity up and down my spine. He pulls me forward to the counter’s edge, until it’s barely supporting my butt, his tight grip on my thigh the only thing that keeps me up.

“Ready?” he mumbles against my lips, breaking the kiss.

I barely have time to nod, let alone say anything before he shoves himself between my tight walls, bottoming out in one fluent thrust. He spears into me, splitting me open, my clenching core no resistance for his strength. I let out a strangled moan, which turns into a scream when his tip kisses my cervix. Deep inside me, the big bear gives me a moment to adjust to the sheer vastness of his cock, whispering into my ear encouragingly while my forehead rests against his shoulder, nails biting into his large biceps.

“Ya alright, bug?” he rasps after a minute or so, voice strained with effort, holding himself back from just fucking me like a deprived animal.

“Uh-huh,” I manage to mewl, lifting my face from his shoulder to meet his eyes, lust-blown pupils swallowing most of the beautiful blue. My breath hitches for a second, the sight of him like this never will cease to amaze me;his brow dotted with tiny beads of sweat, his lips red and puffy from kissing, peeking out from the wild, coarse beard adorning his face and his eyes devouring me. I could never get enough of him. And then something snaps inside me. 

“Love, I want another,” I state, voice crazed by desire, but my mind is clearer than ever, “I want another baby!”

The growl that rips from the Captain’s throat when he slams his lips on mine is nothing but animalistic. Squeezing my cheeks hard, he grinds into me, the tip of his length snug against my cervix, stretching me farther with every roll of his hips, reaching deeper and deeper with every stroke. Small breathy moans escape my lungs; spilling onto his tongue against mine.

But as good as it feels, it’s not enough. Panting, I break the kiss and lean back a little, bracing myself on my hands behind me. Catching on to what I’m preparing myself for, Sy gives me a wicked grin, holding my hips in a vice like grip.

“Ya sure, bug,” he rasps, making sure I’m completely on board with what is about to happen, slowly pulling back until only the tip remains ghosting between my lush petals.

“Give me your worst, Captain!” I pant back at him, my skin aflame with anticipation.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunts, but not without a small grin, as he thrusts his hips forward, fast and hard, the loud slap of skin on skin echoing through the room as I let out a startled gasp. He doesn’t give me much time to recover, either. The sound that leaves my lips when the air is knocked out of my lungs spurs him on and after just a few seconds, he’s slamming into me like a crazed beast.

“Fu-uck yes, baby!” I cry out between thrusts, one hand flying up to his nape, drawing him in to mouth on his neck, teeth nipping at his sweaty skin. Little do I know that I knocked over the mug in the process. In the heat of the moment, all sounds but the ones produced by our united bodies fall to deaf ears. We don’t hear the clinking sounds coming from the cupboard, our heavy breath, grunts, groans and moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin drowning out all other sounds as he rams into me.

It’s only fair that we’re so lost in the moment, after years of being so careful, always risking being caught by two curious kiddos. We may have … done it in some risky places, but being caught by strangers is so awfully different from being caught by your own kids!

With every of Sy’s thrusts, my body jolts, hips bucking as much as his tight grip would allow me as little whimpers escape my lungs.

“So. Fuckin’. Tight,” he groans, every word punctuated with one hard thrust, bruising my cervix, pain and pleasure mingling in a delicious, dizzying way. The fast, even slide of his girthy length within my clenching walls, the feel of every pulsing vein and every ridge sets my whole being on fire.

“Fuck, baby,” I gasp, fighting for breath, my nails digging into the back of his neck in an attempt to ground myself to something, anything, “Shit!” Profanities tumble from my lips before I can even think about stopping them.

And then, suddenly, Sy stops dead in his tracks, grumbling something under his breath that I can’t make out, dull rattling drowning out his voice.

“What happened?” I laugh, pleasure forgotten as I take in his annoyed face.

“Hit mah knees,” he mutters back, his voice just as annoyed as his face.

“Oh, baby,” I coo, trying hard to suppress the bubble of laughter that fights to escape my throat, “Let’s… go to the couch, mh?”

Without another word, he takes a step away from the counter, large paws holding me up by the ass, as I wrap my arms tightly around his neck. Effortlessly, Sy walks us over to the living room, stopping when he spots the German Shepherd in her dog-bed, contently chewing on her bone. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I smile a little when she tilts her head at us, confused, ears perked up, alert.

“Aika. Out.” Sy commands in his tone reserved for the new cadets and our dog… and sometimes for the bedroom. The sheer dominance in his voice makes my core clench involuntarily and I only faintly catch the whimper coming from Aika as she unwillingly trots upstairs.

Once we are alone, Sy flops down on the couch, the solid surface underneath him and my weight pushing me down on him made him reach deeper into me than before.

“Fuck, baby!” I hiss against his neck before bracing my hands on his shoulders and pulling back until I’m sitting upright in his lap, his throbbing cock buried deep within my core. Slowly, I start rocking my hips back and forth, the new position making me need another moment to adjust to the immense stretch Sy’s thick length is causing. We both let out a deep sigh at the feeling of each other, the little interruption forgotten.

“Ya gonna ride me, bug?” the Captain rasps and I nod eagerly, “Gonna ride me real hard?”

“Yes, Sir!” My breath hitches in my throat at his words. Even in the seemingly submissive position, he remains commanding and in absolute control.

“Good girl,” he praises, his hands on my hips guiding my slow grinding, gradually helping me go faster. Soon enough, I’m bouncing in his lap, head thrown back and eyes closed, lost in the moment. I almost jump when I feel something hot and wet on my left nipple. Snapping my head down, I catch the bear with his head nuzzled between my bouncing tits, sucking on my sensitive bud, his coarse beard leaving my skin tingling.

“Baby,” I moan breathlessly, picking up my pace, my ass slapping against his hard thighs.

“Ya want me to fill ya up, darlin’?” he grunts against my supple skin, rocking his hips up into mine, “Want me to pump that little pussy full of my cum?”

“Yes, Sir, please!” I cry out in return, struggling to keep up my rhythm.

I am so close, the sensations of having my husband in and on me mingling and pushing me to new heights of euphoria. As I clench around him, hard, I can feel him throbbing inside me, twitching with the promise of relief. The coil in my belly is just about to snap when-

“Just a little… longer, bug. I’m almost-” Sy’s voice is so strained, he doesn’t even manage to finish the sentence. I only nod and try to fend off my approaching high, holding my breath, my nails digging into his shoulder, surely leaving little crescent shaped cuts. And then, when I least expect it, he pulls me flush against his groin, one hand on the small of my back, the other at the back of my head, holding me in place as he bucks his hips up into mine wildly, his lips finding my own in a sloppy kiss.

“Now!” he commands, his voice dripping with authority, his hips stuttering as I feel him swell and pulse within my clenching walls “Cum for me, darlin’!”

“Yes, Sir!” I manage to get out, his words sending me over the edge. “Fuck!” I wail as ecstasy takes over, lighting my whole body on fire while my body shakes uncontrollably with one wave of pleasure after the other. Sy follows me over the edge just a second after, falling hard, roaring and grunting like a beast. I feel the hot spurts of his seed painting my fluttering walls as they milk him dry, wave after wave. Letting out a deep sigh, I bask in his warmth and the feel of his cum warm and deep inside of me as I let myself fall against his heaving chest.

We sit like this for minutes, just savoring the moment, completely blissed out while we catch our breaths. My fingers draw small circles on Sy’s shoulder blades while my head rests in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down my back gently, leaving tiny pricks of goose bumps in their wake.

“I love you, baby,” I mumble into the quiet room, “So much.”

He only hums in response, and turns his head to press his lips against my forehead, lingering there. His beard tickles at the bridge of my nose, causing me to giggle.

After another moment of content silence, Sy shifts, maneuvering us around so I lie on the couch, my head on the armrest. Slowly, he pulls his softening length out of me, running his knuckles along my slit to catch the few drops of his essence that manage to escape my battered hole.

“Keep all of it inside,” he orders, but his voice is gentle, hopeful. I just smile and nod, reaching my arms up to him.

“C’mere, baby.” I don’t have to ask him a second time. Carefully, he lowers himself to lay his head on my chest, his hands at my sides, drawing small circles while my fingers run up and down from his head to his shoulders, caressing softly.

His weight on top of me makes it harder to breathe, but the comfort of his warmth makes up for it. His weight on top of me means he’s here. Too many nights I’ve spent alone while he was risking his life, thousands of miles away. No, the difficulty to breathe is welcome - it means he’s safe.

“I really hope it takes,” I mumble. The movement of his hands stops, large paws cupping the sides of my torso, putting just a little bit of force into his grasp, signifying he was dead serious.

“It will,” he states, leaving no room for discussion.

“How’d you know?”

“Your taste.”

“Huh?”

“Your taste,” Sy repeats as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Still, I tilt my head in confusion. “You’re ovulatin’, bug.”

My face and chest flush, and my eyes grow wide. “You can tell that from my taste?!” I whisper-shout, both amazed and embarrassed.

Oh, and there is that shit eating grin again…

“Bug, I’ve eaten your little peach so many times, yeah, I can tell exactly when to fuck ya so we’ll have another baby.”

“Fuck.” Is all I manage to get out.

*

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I know, I’m alone on the couch, covered with a thin blanket. Instead of the bear, it’s Aika lying on my chest now. When she notices me opening my eyes, she licks my face affectionately and barks, jumping off me to go inform Sy.

The sound of ceramic shards being swept up reaches my ears. And then it stops. Instead, I hear my husband’s voice, once the shepherd disappeared around the corner.

“Hey, baby,” I hear him mutter, “Can’t be in here right now, girl. Can’t have you cut your paws. Go back to mommy, yeah?”

“Baby? What-?” I call out as I make my way to the kitchen, wrapping the blanket around myself like a dress. “Oh, no.” Frowning, I spot what was causing the sound – my mug, shattered on the kitchen floor.

“I’ll get ya a new one, bug,” Sy mutters, stepping away from the mess, “And if all goes well, ya won’t be drinkin’ coffee anyway, for some time.” He adds with a shrug of his massive shoulders, and I spot a few claw marks adding to the battle scars on his skin - my marks on him.

“Decaf, Captain,” I laugh, shaking my head, “There’s something called decaf. How do you not know? I’ve drank that both times before!” I pause, realization hitting. “And didn’t you say the kids chose that mug?!”

All I’m met with his a sheepish smile before a rough kiss to my lips, meant to distract me. A kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and sadly, also hair. Aika barks, trying to squeeze between the two of us, wanting to be included.

“Please, can you shave it? Just this time?” I ask once we pull back, chuckling and shaking my head at the big dog.

“The beard stays,” Sy states firmly, leaving no room for discussion. With that, he returns to sweeping up the shattered mug, leaving me to watch, Aika pressing herself to my leg.

So many times have I tried to get him to shave; not one argument worked… that he could do it for our wedding, that I wanted to see his beautiful face just once without that jungle covering half of it, that it would grow back… nothing, not even that his coarse beard would be bad for tender baby skin. Well, both times, they proved me wrong. The little ones loved it when their daddy blew raspberries on their little tummies, the beard just making it tickle more, making the house fill with excited little giggles.

Rubbing my flat belly over the blanket, I smile down at where the Sy left a piece of him inside me. “Please,” I whisper, “Let mommy prove your daddy wrong.”

Sy just lifts his head, shaking it at me with a shiteating grin and a mishiveous glint in his eyes.


End file.
